


Henrietta Potter And The Slytherin Child (Book 2) || D.M.

by GrumpyCat84



Series: Henrietta Potter [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Female Harry Potter, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Infidelity, POV Draco Malfoy, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29918058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyCat84/pseuds/GrumpyCat84
Summary: "Tell me, Potter? Is he mine? Is Albus my son?"Follow the adult lives of Henrietta Potter and Draco Malfoy when their worlds once again collide, resulting in heartbreaking secrets and truths to come out.(Draco Malfoy X Female Harry Potter)***Book 2 of the Henrietta Potter series***!!!CONTAINS SWEARING AND MATURE SCENES!!!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Henrietta Potter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175039
Comments: 24
Kudos: 70





	1. His Father's Eyes

“Mum, who was that man you were talking to?”

My eyes briefly met Ron’s and he raised an eyebrow.

“Just an old school friend,” I explained to my son, “it’s been a while since we’ve seen one another.”

“Was he in Gryffindor too?”

Ron let out a loud guffaw, which he quickly tried to disguise as a cough.

“No, Al, he was a Slytherin.”

A look crossed Albus’s face, and I could tell he was worried about something.

“Mum, what if- what if I’m in _Slytherin_?” his voice shook as though he was saying a swear word.

I crouched down so that Albus’s face was slightly above my own. I looked into his fearful grey eyes.

“Albus Severus,” I said quietly, “you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.”

And the other guilted me into it, I added silently.

In fact, thinking about it, I had to grudgingly agree that Snape had probably cared for me more than fucking Dumbledore had after all that time.

But then it just would have been cruel to first name a child Severus.

I often thought about how much Snape had been obsessed with my mother, how he must have felt when he saw her in me. It really did not explain why he was so fucking rude to me all those years. Oh well.

“But _just_ say-”

“-then Slytherin house will have gained an excellent student, won’t it?” I cut in, starting to feel irritated. “It doesn’t matter to me, Al. But if it matters to you, you’ll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account.”

“Really?”

“It did for me,” I said smugly.

“I actually think your mother would have made an excellent Slytherin - she has all the qualities.” Ron said. “Ow!”

I had stood up and hit him very hard.

Ron scowled at me, rubbing his arm. “See! You’re just proving my point now!”

The doors started slamming all along the scarlet train, and parents swarmed forwards for final kisses and to shout last minute reminders. Albus jumped into the carriage and I closed the door behind him, my heart suddenly feeling heavy at the thought of being separated from my only child.

I ran alongside the train as it began to move, desperate to spend every remaining second looking at my son’s pale, excited face.

“Be a good boy, Al!” I called, my voice choking slightly as the train picked up speed, gliding my son away from me. “I love you!”

I stopped running and stood, waving frantically as the train disappeared from view. The smile was still on my face, despite it feeling like I was suffering a bereavement.

“He’ll be all right,” Hermione murmured in my ear, “they both will.”

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do with myself without him,” I sighed. The thought of returning home to an empty house night after night filled me with dread.

“Remember, you’re always welcome to stay at ours,” Hermione said, hugging me to her. “Our home is your home too, remember?”

I was thinking more along the lines of getting laid but smiled politely all the same.

“I love you guys,” I murmured quietly as Ron came and joined us, wrapping the both of us in his long lanky arms.

“I’m quite fond of you guys too,” Ron declared, “now come on, let me treat you all to a slice of chocolate cake. That’ll cheer us up.”

“I’d love to Ron, but I’ve got to get back to the office,” I huffed. “I’ve already missed so much time by coming here.”

“Please!” Ron barked, “I’m sure they can cope a day without you there. I know _I’m_ not going to hurry back.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that Ronald Weasley,” I muttered, throwing him an incredulous look. Did he forget I was his fucking boss?! “Besides, I’ve a shit load of paperwork that won’t do itself-”

“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU BEFORE ABOUT YOUR LANGUAGE, HENRIETTA POTTER?!”

Hermione’s eyes were bulging furiously at me, her hands now on her hips. I looked down guiltily at Hugo. Oops.

“Sorry, I’m _trying_ to keep it in check. It just slips out sometimes,” I explained, giving an unapologetic shrug.

After we said our farewells, I Apparated to the Ministry, already feeling weary at the workload ahead of me.

Nodding my greetings to my colleagues, I strode though the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, not stopping until I came to my chaotic, yet cosy office.

Fuck, I really needed to get an assistant, I thought as I eyed my messy desk, paperwork piled high, falling onto the floor.

I sat down, getting stuck in as my thoughts turned to Albus and I wondered how he was finding the journey, wherever he and Rose were making any new friends.

My eyes drifted to the photo on my desk. It was a photo taken over the summer in Ron and Hermione’s back garden. It had been a lovely sunny afternoon and Ron had eagerly got his camera out, taking pictures of the kids before we lost them to Hogwarts. In this particular photo, Albus had thrown his arm around my shoulder, laughing happily into the camera. With our smiling faces side by side, you could see the similarities between us. He had my hair, my nose, my smile.

He had had a happy childhood, despite it just being the two of us. He never seemed to mind, asking only once about his father. I simply told him that there was no father, that it had always just been him and me. He seemed happy enough with that explanation. For now.

And then my thoughts turned to the encounter on the platform. To Draco. I tried not to allow myself to think about him too much. It still hurt like hell. But seeing him, touching him... it brought everything flooding back. All those feelings that refused to go away and die.

But he had his own family. His beautiful wife, who would not hurt a fly. His son, who looked astonishingly like himself at that age. It had floored me.

I glanced back to the moving photo of Albus’s smiling face. He did not look much like his father. Only the eyes. He had inherited _his_ eyes.

A sudden commotion made me jerk my head up at the closed door. I could hear Carol, the main receptionist, shouting at someone.

“YOU CAN’T JUST COME STORMING IN HERE!”

But whoever she was addressing would not listen, it seemed.

“YOU HAVEN’T GOT AN APPOINT-”

I jumped up as my door flew open. There stood the imposing suited figure of Draco Malfoy, a familiar scowl set upon his pale pointed face.

“I’m so sorry Miss Potter,” Carol breathlessly wheezed behind him, jumping up slightly to see over Draco’s shoulder. “He just barged in demanding to see you. I’ll call security.”

“There’s no need, Carol,” I said at once, dismissing her. “It’s okay, he can come in.”

“Oh,” she looked nonplussed, blinking up at Draco. “Well - if you’re sure...”

I nodded and she scurried away.

My eyes met Draco’s who was still stood in the doorway, his face still set in an angry scowl.

“Tell me, Potter,” he growled. “Is he mine? Is Albus my son?”


	2. Of All The Bars

_**February 2005 (Twelve and a half years earlier)** _

Draco Malfoy downed his second whiskey of the night, slamming the empty tumbler back down onto the bar.

He heaved a heavy sigh and thought about the woman who was waiting for him back home. Astoria was perfectly nice; she was kind and beautiful and did not nag. On paper, Draco had to admit, she was perfect.

His mother had encouraged the coupling from the start. Families were formally introduced, and arrangements had been made without Draco ever having to lift a finger. Astoria was keen, he had known she had a crush on him during their Hogwarts days. Daphne had told him enough times.

But of course, he had only eyes for one girl back then.

He felt that familiar twist to the heart whenever he thought about her, _Etta_. He furiously tried to push it away, but the whiskey was already making it difficult and, before he knew it, he found he was losing himself in thoughts about her. Every inch of her face was still so clear in his mind, the way she smiled, the way she scowled whenever she was cross. And she had been cross a lot, he thought, chuckling to himself.

“Glad to see that whiskey has cheered you up,” the barman grunted in his direction. “Another?”

Draco nodded, sliding his glass towards the overweight man in front of him. “I was just remembering something,” he muttered as a way of explanation for his unexpected moment of buoyancy.

“Something good?” the old man enquired, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah," Draco answered, trying to ignore the dull ache of his heart as green eyes flashed once again in his mind, "something perfect, in fact."

*****

Being an Auror fucking sucked.

I thought it was going to be fun times ahead, busting the bad guys as good triumphed over evil every Monday morning.

But no, instead I found myself constantly knee-deep in paperwork, which was brought to me by the barrel loads, and the most exciting thing I had got called out for over the last six months was to break up a tedious spat between two drunk wizards who could not handle their liquor.

Ugh. My life.

It was a Thursday evening and as I looked at my watch, I saw it was eight thirty. I should have clocked off hours ago, like everyone else. I knew Ron had already left, as he popped his head round the door at five minutes to five to inform me that our dinner plans were off as Hermione had just owled him to let him know she was ovulating ("Sorry, Etta, you know how it is...").

I had simply nodded and smiled, resisting the urge to tell him that no, I do not fucking know how it is at all. But I said nothing because they had been trying for over a year and I knew how much they desperately wanted a child.

Sighing heavily, I thought about the empty flat that waited for me. My mind briefly drifted to thoughts about Draco, as it so often did if I was not careful, and I wondered if he was spending a romantic evening snuggled up with his wife on the sofa, sharing a bottle of wine. 

My heart gave a violent, painful twist and I shook my head, as though trying to expel the image from my mind.

It had been almost seven years since I last saw him. Seven years since I told him I never loved him and walked to my death. In that time, I had kept busy, throwing myself into my career and keeping my head down from the world. I had thought about contacting Draco many times, but my stupid pride would always get in the way. And I was pissed off at him for walking away after he found out I was still alive, abandoning us mid battle.

And then after three years of silence, the news of his engagement broke out. Astoria Greengrass. He had moved on and found another woman to love. 

It broke my fucking heart.

Especially as I could not seem to move on myself. I had dated a few times, but they always turned out to be fame whores, selling their stories to the paper the second they had slept with me. It made it difficult for me to trust anyone. And it did not help that I compared every man to Draco. No one could come close to him in my eyes. He was perfect.

And married.

So, there I was on a Thursday night at the age of twenty-four, all alone and feeling sorry for myself. I did not want to go home. But I did not want to stay sat in the office like a sad sack for another minute either.

Getting up from my desk, I grabbed my coat and my bag and marched out of there as quickly as I could. I needed a drink and I needed one fast.

I rarely went to the pub after work, unless on the odd occasion when Ron literally forced me into one. But tonight, the urge hit me like never before, and as I walked down an unfamiliar street in London, I found myself stepping into a somewhat unremarkable little Muggle pub.

It was not very full, just a handful of people sat alone nursing drinks and looking, much like myself, as though they did not want to go home. A few heads lifted as I made my way across the room to the bar. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone but then gladly remembered I was in a Muggle pub and therefore no one would recognise me. Tonight, I just wanted to drink in a bar like a normal person.

Keeping my eyes on the prize, I located an empty stool at the bar and hopped upon on it, the overweight, balding barman already moving across to take my order.

“What’ll it be, love?” he asked gruffly, 'cleaning' a glass with a filthy looking rag.

“Ummm...” My eyes swept over the many, many bottles on the shelf behind him. So much choice in these Muggle bars!

“The guy sitting 'ere seems to be enjoying the whiskey,” he said, gesturing to an empty stool further along the bar.

I raised my eyebrows quizzically. “Oh. Invisible, is he?"

The old man let out a loud roar of laughter as though I had just made the most hilarious joke in the world. I could not tell whether he was taking the piss or not.

“Gone to take a leak, I guess. Came in 'ere miserable as sin, he did, not unlike yourself, if you don’t mind me saying. Caught him having a sneaky chuckle at the whiskey though.”

Oh, for fuck's sake, trust me to choose a pub full of complete freaks. I was beginning to wish I had not bothered. But I badly wanted that drink.

“Just the whiskey then, please,” I said curtly, reaching in my bag for my purse.

He took the hint and stopped talking to me after that.

I slowly sipped the whiskey, enjoying the sensation of the warm liquid burning down my throat. Closing my eyes, I allowed my mind to empty of all thought and felt lighter than I had in ages. I was vaguely aware of another patron approaching, and heard the scrape of a stool and that dreadful barman asking, “Same again?”

" _Potter_?”

My eyes flew open at once. I _knew_ that voice.

Heart racing wildly, I slowly turned my head. And sure enough, there, sat on the ‘invisible’ man’s barstool, was Draco Malfoy.


	3. Come As You Are

For a moment I was confused. I could not wrap my head around the fact that Draco Malfoy was sat, right before my very eyes, in a Muggle bar. It did not feel real.

“Draco? What - what are you _doing_ here?”

His mouth turned up at the corners, twitching into a smirk as his grey eyes twinkled in amusement. “Could ask you the same question, Potter.”

“Bad day,” I mumbled, staring back into my half-drunk glass of whiskey. My heart was thudding dangerously in my chest, I could not think straight.

“Yeah, well I know how that feels,” he muttered, knocking his own drink back.

An awkward silence fell between us and I wondered what was going through his mind.

“So, you two know each other then?”

I lifted my eyes from my drink, the barman was looking from me to Draco with interest. I silently cursed him, wishing he would mind his own fucking business.

“You could say that,” Draco sniggered, pushing his empty glass aside. The barman reached out to pick it up, but Draco placed his hand over it, shaking his head.

“Your wife not like you staggering home drunk?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Fuck. I had been unable to disguise the bitterness in my voice.

Draco looked up sharply at me, a wild flash in his eyes.

Feeling my cheeks flame, I quickly glanced back down at my drink and, not knowing what else to do, I picked it up and downed the rest of it in one go.

To my horror, it made me cough and splutter. Draco chuckled softly, watching me in amusement. “Perhaps you should stick to Butterbeer in future, Potter.”

“Eh? Butterbeer?” The barman said, startled. “Don’t think I’ve heard of that one before.”

Thankfully, at that moment, another customer arrived at the far end of the bar and he walked away to serve them.

“Careful,” I muttered, “you’re going to get us into trouble.”

“And I was always good at that, wasn’t I, Potter?” Our eyes met again and the air between us suddenly crackled.

This time, he averted his eyes first, looking back down at the bar and started tapping his finger agitatedly on the surface.

“So, Daphne’s little sister, then?” I do not know why I said this. It literally came out without thought.

Draco immediately ceased the tapping as his long white finger froze mid air. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the bar in front of him and I noticed a muscle twitch along his jawline.

“Yeah,” he muttered, but said no more.

I shuffled brusquely on my seat. “I always thought you’d end up with Parkinson.” _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ But I could not help myself. “Although I suppose a Greengrass is a bit more of an improv-”

_BANG!_

I was cut off by Draco slamming his fist loudly on the bar, making me jump.

" _Shut the fuck up, Potter,”_ he spat, turning to glare at me. The coldness in his grey eyes shocked me. “You made your choice, _remember_?”

My mouth dropped open at his reaction. The anger that emanated from him was so thick in the air, it almost suffocated me.

“Draco, I- I-”

But before I could finish stuttering out my response, Draco leapt down from his stool, grabbed his jacket, and started striding away.

“Draco! Wait!” I called after him. But he ignored me, forcing his way across the pub, towards the exit.

Have you ever experienced one of those moments in time when you made a decision that changed the course of your life forever? When, what seemed like a small insignificant act actually ended up affecting the whole outcome of your future? A turning point, if you will?

Well, this here, was one of those moments.

I could have just let him go, finished my drink, and then later left for home, shrugging the evening off as another sad event in my sad depressing life.

But I was Henrietta Potter and therefore famously had a knack of making poorly thought-out life decisions.

Grabbing my bag, I jumped down off my stool and hurried after him, determined not to let him leave like this.

The chilly air hit me the second I stepped outside onto the street. It had started raining and I shivered as cold droplets hit my face. I looked left and then right, where I saw him already nearing the corner.

“DRACO!” I shouted, and relief flooded over me as he stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned around and the breath caught in my throat as, under the light of the streetlamp, I could see the hurt and anger rife in his eyes.

“You know I had no choice?” I said breathlessly, running towards him. “You know it was the only way?”

His hardened expression gave nothing away as he stared stonily at me. He did not say anything, but neither did he attempt to walk away.

Gasping, I closed the space between us, stopping in front of him. The rain was falling heavier now, and I brushed my damp hair from my face.

“You would have never let me go,” I implored, my voice shaking with emotion as his cold hard face looked back at me. The rainwater had flattened his blond hair, but he moved not a muscle as glistening drops dripped down his pale face and along his sharp jawline. “I _had_ to tell you that, even though it wasn’t true.”

" _Don’t_ ,” he snapped, his voice so low and dangerous, it sounded more like a growl, “don’t say things you don’t mean.”

His breathing now matched my own jagged and uneven breaths as rain continued to spatter harder on our faces. But I didn’t care, I didn’t care about anything right then except _him_. He was the reason my heart had been broken for so long, he was the reason that ever since the war I had been wandering around aimlessly, feeling as though a piece of me was missing. He was _everything_ , and I was sick and tired of being everyone’s saviour when all I wanted to do for once was save myself.

So, it was no surprise to me when I allowed the next words to fall from my lips, unstoppable and unrepentant.

“I love you, Draco... I _always_ loved you.”

“ _Etta_...”

Our eyes locked with such a burning intensity that I found all the breath had quite suddenly left my body.

And then, with a speed that took me by surprise, Draco swiftly closed the remaining gap, crashing his lips against mine.

*****

I Apparated us immediately to my flat.

We barely spoke, barely even came up for air as we stumbled clumsily down the hallway to my bedroom, tearing at each other’s clothes in our desperation to feel skin on skin.

“ _Fuck,”_ Draco rasped, pulling his mouth from mine as we fell onto my bed, my lips already numb and tingling from his desperate, fervent kisses.

Pinning my wrists above my head, he peppered urgent kisses down my jaw, leaving a bruising path in his wake until he eventually reached the sweet spot on my neck just below my ear.

I trembled and whimpered beneath him as he nibbled and sucked my skin, resisting the urge to just scream at him to fuck me, every inch of me alive with pins and needles as his hard cock pressed almost painfully into my hip.

But before we could get any further, Draco lifted his head, both of us panting heavily as his darkened eyes looked almost regretfully into mine.

“Shit, Etta,” he gasped, and almost instantly I felt flushed with disappointment, fear that he was going to stop this, that he had decided this could not happen after all.

So, when he said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have a condom.” I found myself blinking in confusion.

“O-Oh...” I stuttered, my relief at discovering he wanted to continue quickly turning to despair. “I don’t have anything either.”

No, fuck! Why didn’t I think of going on the pill before? An implant... injection... _anything_?! The sad truth was, I was not very sexually active, and the men that I had dated usually always had the standard ‘ring’ in their wallet.

But, of course, unavailable men do not usually go out ‘prepared’. Well, not ones that intend to remain faithful to their long-term partners at least.

I supposed it was something that Draco no longer carried them, but then again, it was also a stark reminder that he was a fucking married man.

“What are we doing, Draco?” I asked breathlessly beneath him. Our faces were just inches apart, his hands still pinning my wrists together and cock still pressing against me.

“Don’t ask me that,” he said vehemently, “ _please_.”

“You’re married,” I whispered, the offending words lingering in the air long after my lips stopped moving.

A pained look immediately pinched his features as his eyes gazed sadly into mine.

“You should’ve told me sooner.”

“You shouldn’t have left.”

“Damn it, Potter! What did you expect? You told me you never loved me!”

“ _I lied_! I lied to save your fucking backside, you ungrateful _twat_!”

I did not know if it were my imagination, but I could have sworn he was getting harder.

And seeing as his response was to hungrily crush his lips against mine, I guess I wasn’t wrong.

His kiss was hard and forceful, teeth tearing my lips apart as a low guttural growl vibrated in the back of his throat.

He was like a starved lion literally ravishing his prey.

And being the responsible adults we were clearly not; we began to fuck.

“Oh fuck, Etta, _fuck_!” he cried out as his thrusts became fast and sloppy within minutes.

I ran my hands over every part of hot, damp skin I could reach, loving the feel of his muscles clenching beneath my fingers as his tautened body began to tremble and shake at his impending orgasm.

He dipped his head catching my lips back in his.

“Cum with me,” he rasped against my mouth. “Cum with me, Etta.”

He pressed his forehead against mine, looking into my eyes as he increased the speed of his thrusts, his hot, uneven breaths hitting my face as he moved faster and faster.

Shifting his fingers from my wrist, he clasped my hand as his other gripped my waist, fingers digging painfully into my flesh.

It was enough to make the burn in my stomach rip, and as I groaned into his mouth, he slammed into me with one last shuddering thrust, his own groans reverberating against mine.

Afterwards, we collapsed in a sweaty, spent heap onto my mattress, both of us gasping and gulping for breath as our hearts pounded noisily beneath our chests.

Without another word, he pulled me to him, and as I lay there in his arms, I couldn’t help but think that I was finally where I had longed to be for so long.

Except, the sad truth was, Draco Malfoy was no longer mine to have.


	4. Guilt

Draco stirred awake, immediately pulling the dark-haired witch against him, relishing the feel of her soft naked body against his, sighing as her gentle breath tickled his skin. She was alive and she was in his arms. It was all he had ever wanted.

And then, as though being doused by a bucket of ice-cold water, he remembered the wife who was waiting for him back home. He hated himself. No - he utterly _loathed_ himself. Astoria did not deserve this. And neither did Etta.

He was a despicable human being.

Yet, he knew already that he would not be able to stay away. Nothing in the world could keep him from her. Not his wife, his parents - _nothing_. The hunger she stirred in him was the strongest he had ever known. He had watched, with burning desire, as he'd pushed slowly into her, heard the sharp gasp of delight and seen her beautiful face contort with pleasure. Afterwards, when they were lain in each other’s arms, tangled in the sheets of her bed, he understood that this was more than just a one-off encounter.

“Draco?” Etta’s eyes fluttered open. The startling green of them made his heart race. He could not help but press his lips down on hers, wanting to taste her, to have as much of her as he could.

“Hello, you,” he whispered huskily, breaking away just enough so that his lips tickled hers when he spoke.

She stirred beneath him, yawning sleepily. “What time is it?” she muttered drowsily, closing her eyes again as she nuzzled into the crook of his arm.

Draco glanced around the unfamiliar bedroom, looking for a clock, but came up short. “How do you ever get up in time, Potter,” he drawled, “if you don’t even have a simple everyday item like a clock?”

With her eyes still closed, Etta sluggishly reached over to her bedside table, grappling at various items until she finally located a slim silver chained watch. Drawing her arm back in, she dropped the watch in his hand.

Draco’s heart sank when he saw the time. It was four o’clock in the morning. Astoria was going to be worried. He should not have stayed, but he could not bear to tear himself away from Etta’s arms after waiting so long to be back in them.

“Etta, I’ve got to go,” he said gently, hating himself all over again. He felt her body stiffen; the significance of this situation clearly not lost on her.

Her eyes flew back open and the sadness behind them was unmistakable. “Will I see you again?” she whispered, and his heart twisted at the vulnerability of her question.

He leant down, planting his lips firmly against hers, reassuring not just her, but himself too. “I don’t think I could ever stay away from you, Etta,” he breathed, and he found his heart fluttering at the look of joy that flickered in her eyes.

Slowly and reluctantly, he peeled himself away from her and climbed out of bed. He could feel her eyes follow him around the room as he dressed, making him want to dive back under the covers and kiss every inch of her.

“Next Thursday,” he said, leaning down to kiss the lightning shaped scar upon her forehead, the same scar that used to infuriate him so when they were younger. “I’ll be in the same place. Waiting.”

He stood up, taking one last look at the beautiful, fierce Gryffindor whom he had always loved above anyone and everything else.

And then he left. Back home to his waiting wife.

*****

One morning-after-pill later, I felt like the shittiest and skankiest human being in the world.

If this was what it was like to have an affair with a married man, then I did not want it at all.

But I wanted _him_.

“Are you okay, Etta?” Hermione asked later in the week over lunch. “You just seem a little... I don’t know, _distracted_ lately.”

I stirred my coffee trying to make my face look as passive as possible. “I’m fine, Hermione, just snowed under with paperwork, you know how it is.”

“Yes, I do know how it is, and it’s no different to normal,” Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t forget I _know_ you, Etta, and I know when something’s on your mind.”

Yes, it truly was. Draco Malfoy was on my mind. I literally thought about nothing else. The anticipation of seeing him again was killing me. I constantly wondered where he was, who he was talking to... what he was doing with his _wife_.

My stomach knotted in a mixture of jealousy and guilt whenever I thought about her. I did not really know Astoria, having moved in very different circles during our Hogwarts years, but from my understanding, she was a kind and harmless woman. In some ways it would have been easier if he _had_ married Pansy - I would not feel so horrendously guilty then.

And even though I had no right, I _hated_ thinking of him going home to her. I wondered if he had fucked her since being with me, and the thought caused such an unpleasant burning sensation in my stomach, that I had to wrap my arms around myself to try and stem the pain.

“Really, Hermione," I lied, "everything is fine.”

I hated being dishonest with her, but I knew I would not be able to bear seeing the disappointment on her face or listen to the inevitable lecture about how affairs tear lives apart. I did not need reminding that what I was doing was wrong, I _knew_ it was.

And yet... there was a part of me that hoped Draco would leave Astoria; to throw away his marriage and what little reputation he had left for me.

But I knew _him._ Draco Malfoy would sooner cut off his dick than do something so bold as to publicly leave his wife for another woman, even if he loved her. And I knew I would be forever too stubborn and too proud to ask him to do it.

So even at this point, I knew exactly what I was walking into. 

But nothing seemed as though it would stop me, not even the knowledge that my heart was very likely about to get once again smashed into tiny irreparable pieces.

Because as it always had been, the pull to Draco Malfoy was too great to resist.

*****

My footsteps quickened along the pavement, seemingly of their own accord. I was practically tripping over myself to get to my destination.

The thought of seeing him again made my heart race, of being able to touch him and kiss him. The week had been too long, I had not been able to think of anything but this moment.

As I reached the pub, I paused and took a deep breath, steadying myself before entering. I needed to be calm. I was not a silly little teenage schoolgirl anymore.

But as I stepped inside and spotted the white-blond haired Slytherin casually leaning against the bar, a silly little teenage schoolgirl was exactly what I felt as I found myself caught by a sudden giddiness.

He turned his head, his eyes resting on me. My stomach gave an involuntary flip as a small sultry smile tugged at his lips.

His eyes never left mine as I approached and when I got closer, I could see the desire written all over his face. It was obvious he had been yearning for this moment as much as I had.

“Drink?” he asked, his voice a husky growl.

No, I did not want a fucking drink. I wanted to take him straight back to mine and rip our clothes off and do all sorts of impure things to each other.

“Whiskey, thanks.” I answered coolly, leaning against the bar next to him. I caught a whiff of his cologne and my insides knotted in utter longing.

" _Are you sure_?” Draco growled quietly, leaning in, his lips just above my ear. There was no question of his meaning. Our eyes locked and my breath caught in my throat.

" _Let’s go_ ,” I breathed, and somehow, I managed to make my legs work properly as Draco hurriedly pulled me out of the pub.

We did not even make it to the bedroom, such was our need. We fucked hard and fast right there on the hallway floor of my flat, not even bothering to fully undress.

“How long can you stay?” I whispered breathlessly afterwards as we lay recovering beneath the coat hooks.

Draco turned his head to look at me, a pained expression on his face. “Don’t hate me, but I said I was staying with a friend.”

“Oh.” I did not know what say. He wanted to stay the whole night. And even though that thought thrilled me to the very core; the lie to his wife had tainted it.

Draco reached out his hand and lightly cupped my face. “I won’t stay if you don’t want me to, I just couldn’t bear to leave you in the early hours again.”

“Of course I want you to stay,” I whispered, leaning up and brushing my lips softly against his. I did not add that if I had it my way, he would stay with me forever.

But deep down, I knew that was never going to happen. And as our eyes guiltily met, one name lingered, unspoken upon our lips.

_Astoria._


	5. The Other Woman

For the next four months, every Thursday night, he was mine and I was his.

We no longer bothered meeting up in the pub that had brought us back together, instead he would just Apparate straight to my flat, where I would always make sure I was home in time from the Ministry, never later than seven o’clock.

Often, we would just jump straight to it, hungry for one another after our weeklong separation, tearing off clothes as we devoured one another on the spot. Occasionally we would make it to the bedroom; most times, however, we would not.

And we would talk. We talked about everything other than the fact that he was a married man, and that I was the Other Woman. I guess it made it easier for us to bear the guilt if we simply pretended that Astoria did not exist.

As I predicted, he spoke nothing about leaving her. But I noticed he began to remove his wedding ring, leaving an accusatory white line upon his left finger. I pictured him pausing outside my front door to slip it off, and I wondered what went through his mind as he pocketed it out of sight.

We never went anywhere other than the confines of my little London flat. On the rare occasion when we were too exhausted to fuck, we would curl up on the sofa together and just watch television, a Muggle conception which bemused Draco to no end.

“But we’re just watching people on the television watching television,” he said, aghast at the programme I was making him watch. “Where’s the entertainment value in that?”

“It’s mind numbing and that works for me,” I muttered dully, nuzzling my head further into the crook of his neck.

I could sense his smirk as he kissed the top of my head, tightening his arms around me. “Another bad day in the office I take it, Potter?”

“Ugh, like you wouldn't believe," I complained, recalling the state I had left my desk in earlier that evening. "You’d think being a Dark Wizard Catcher would be fun, but in fact it’s a job full of tedious paperwork.”

"You do realise you're an Auror and not a superhero?" Draco said giving a derisive snort. "Although given how you were at Hogwarts, I would never have placed you being tied to a desk job under a mountain of paperwork."

“Yeah, well times were different back then,” I shrugged, sighing heavily. “We were kids in the middle of a war.”

A silence fell between us, and my mind suddenly filled with faces of all the dead. I closed my eyes as a wave of terror passed over me, the memories never failing to bring back feelings of desolation and despair. To me, it had never felt like we had won the war, not really.

Draco had gone quiet, I glanced up to see him staring intensely down at me; a slight frown creasing his forehead.

“What was it like?” he murmured softly, his eyes searching mine, as though he could find the answer by reaching into my mind. “What was it like to die?”

I tensed. This was the first time he had brought up that night. The night I chose death over us.

Entwining my fingers with his, I thought hard, searching for the right words to use. I owed him that at least.

“It- it was surprisingly calm,” I said slowly, closing my eyes as I took myself back to that moment, “and it was fearless, you know... you’ve reached the ultimate end and it’s like, suddenly there is nothing left to be afraid of.”

I opened my eyes to see Draco staring down at me with such rapt attention.

“Dumbledore was there,” I continued, noticing him briefly flinch at the mention of our old headmaster. “He told me I had a choice, and I chose to come back. And then I knew, I _knew_ I had the strength to kill _him_.”

Draco swallowed, looking at me as though he was seeing me properly for the first time. “You were so brave, Etta,” he breathed, his voice full of both awe and sadness.

We both fell silent, staring at one another, the light of the television flickering over our faces.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“I know,” he murmured, his eyes glistening into mine, “I know now why you did what you did.”

And I could see that he truly meant that. My heart thudding in my chest, I brought a trembling hand up to his face and cupped his cheek beneath my fingers.

“I love you, Draco.”

He closed his eyes and let out a soft, contented sigh as though savouring my words.

“I love you too, Etta.”

It would have been a perfect moment if was not for the fact that he refused to leave his fucking wife.

*****

I knew something was wrong straight away.

For a start, it was not a Thursday.

“Draco?” I asked, staring in confusion at my unexpected Saturday night visitor standing on the other side of my front door.

It had been a rather dull start to the weekend. I had spent the day in rubber gloves and trackies, giving my flat a thorough spring clean. I thought I had better get with the programme, even if I was a bit behind, seeing as it was already the end of June.

I certainly had not been expecting anyone. Least of all Draco. In the four months that he had been 'visiting', he had never once strayed from our Thursday night arrangement. I glanced down self consciously at my dirt smeared clothes. The fucker could have at least warned me.

There was a look in his eyes I did not like. A look that told me something was troubling him.

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t our usual day,” he said. I couldn’t help but notice a slight strangle to his voice. “I just- I just needed to see you.”

My heart thudding anxiously, I stood back from the door, allowing him inside.

“Draco, what-?”

But he cut me off as he reached out and roughly pulled me against him. He kissed me hard as he kicked the door shut behind him. Grabbing my waist, he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom where he tore off my clothes and kissed every inch of me. He fucked me like it was the first and last time.

“What was that about?” I asked breathlessly after he rolled off me and collapsed panting and sweating onto the mattress.

“I just wanted to see you,” he answered, once again refusing to meet my eye.

He pulled me to him, cocooning his body around mine, burying his face in my hair. I could tell something wasn’t right. There was something he wasn’t telling me; something in his eyes.

But I tried to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping coldly around my heart and instead, fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning, I woke up and he was gone.

A single piece of paper lay on the pillow. Two words were scribbled in Draco’s scrawl. Two words which made my heart break into a million pieces.

_I’m sorry._

It was over twelve years until I saw him again.

*****

Two months later, when the post Owl drops the Daily Prophet through my window, I finally find out why.

There, on the front page, is Draco; standing proudly next to a beaming Astoria, his arm wrapped securely round her waist.

And, as I read the words beneath, this time my heartbreak feels different, it is cold and unexpected, like concrete drying in my chest, turning to stone.

_**A New Malfoy Heir** _ _The dashing Draco Malfoy, 25 and his stunning young wife have announced the happy news of their upcoming bundle of joy. Astoria Malfoy, 23 is due to give birth to the Malfoy heir in February of 2006. "My husband and I feel completely blessed by this beautiful miracle," Astoria speaks exclusively to the Daily Prophet. "It is no secret to our close family and friends that Draco and I have been trying for some time now. The pressure was certainly beginning to cause a strain on our marriage, but in the end, we found the secret was to spend a little time apart, the absence eventually bringing us closer together and enabling us to create life with our newfound love for one another." With Hermione Granger-Weasley, 25 and husband, Ron Weasley, 25 announcing their pregnancy only last month too, there certainly seems to be a little 'magic' in the air of late!_

I look down at my own protruding stomach.

And I vow there and then that he will never know.

*****

_**1st September 2017 (Present Day)** _

As I stare back up at Draco’s questioning face, I know it is time to put past hurts aside and finally tell the truth.

Bracing myself, I release the long, shaky breath I do not even realise I have been holding on to.

“Yes, Draco. Albus is your son.”


	6. The Secret Son

Ashen faced, Draco slowly closed the office door behind him.

“ _Etta_ ,” he breathed, making me wince at the sound of my name on his lips. I had never seen him look so shocked before. I stayed silent, allowing him to process this information as he shakily lowered himself into the chair in front of my desk.

“Does he- does he know?” his voice sounded strangled, like he was finding it difficult to breathe. Standing up, I walked over to the water dispenser and filled a cup up for him, plonking it on the desk in front of him.

“No. No one knows. Only you.”

I sat back down in my chair, exhaling slowly. It felt very strange to be having this conversation. I never thought I would ever see Draco again, let alone this. Albus was everything to me and I was suddenly aware that the truth of his parentage coming out may cause a great rift between us. It terrified me.

“If I’d known-”

“Then you would have still gone back to your wife.” I cut in abruptly. I did not want to hear it. “She was carrying your child too, remember?”

Draco’s head shot up at the bitterness of my tone and the guilt in his eyes was rife. Rather than make me feel satisfied, it just made me feel sad.

“I’m sorry, Etta, I’m sorry for how I left you.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” I said. A roaring noise had started up in my ears as years of suppressed hurt and heartache started to mount to the surface. To hear his apologies and excuses would be too much. “What’s done is done. Albus has had a happy childhood so far. I’ve been able to provide for him everything he needs.”

“A father?”

“His father walked out on us before he even knew of his conception. His father had another family to worry about.”

“Etta-”

“DON’T CALL ME _ETTA_!” The damn inside of me burst and the anger suddenly exploded through me, red hot and furious. “YOU LOST THE RIGHT TO CALL ME THAT WHEN YOU USED ME AS YOUR FUCKING SIDE HOE TO HELP YOU PATCH UP YOUR MARRIAGE!” I paused, trying to steady my heavy breaths. Draco at least had the decency to stay quiet and look utterly shamefaced. I lowered my voice. “For four months I deluded myself that you loved me, that what you and I had was not just some sleazy extramarital affair. And then one day - _pfff_ \- you’re gone, leaving nothing but a pathetic piece of paper with two fucking words on it whilst you go crawling back to your wife, who by the way, you failed to mention you were trying for a _baby_ with at the time!”

Draco closed his eyes, putting his head in his hands. “It wasn’t like that, I thought I was doing the right thing.”

I felt a bubble of laughter rise in my throat. “The _right_ _thing_?” I scoffed. “Please Draco, you were screwing around behind your wife’s back. _I_ willingly got myself involved with someone else’s husband. Nothing either you or I did was the _right_ _thing_ , no matter how much you try and dress it up.”

Draco's face remained hidden behind long white fingers as he rubbed his eyes. He did not seem to have a response to this.

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. Abruptly, I stood up. I needed a moment to calm down, away from him.

“Where are you going?” Draco’s head shot up at the sound of my chair scraping back, a look of panic on his face as I headed to the door.

“To get a coffee,” I gritted, “want one?”

“Oh- yeah...yes, please,” he stayed in his seat whilst I stormed down the corridor to the office kitchen.

I fiercely flicked the kettle on and took a few steadying breaths as I waited for it to boil, trying to get my head around the situation.

Draco Malfoy was sat in my office having just discovered that he had fathered my child. _Our_ child, I suppose. I had never thought of Albus as being an _our_ child before. He was always just mine.

I was shaking from all the dormant emotions this had awakened inside of me; over twelve years of hurt, anger, shame and betrayal building inside of me like a pressure cooker threatening to explode.

I needed to calm the fuck down before I went back in there.

“Was that Draco Malfoy I saw go into your office?”

I froze, my back going rigid. Romilda Vane had just entered the kitchen behind me.

“Yes,” I said abruptly, hoping she would not ask why.

“Oooo, lucky you,” she cooed, giggling coyly. “He’s still looking as foxy as ever, I see. Shame he’s married, though.”

As though that had ever fucking stopped him before.

I closed my eyes, willing for patience as she rambled on.

“But didn’t you and he used to hate each other back at school? I seem to remember you nearly killed him once, didn’t you? In that bathroom at Hogwarts, remember? All that blood!”

I wished she would just shut the fuck up.

“Ancient history, Vane. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I picked up the two mugs and indicated the door that she was still blocking. She hopped out of the way looking disappointed at the lack of any gossip to take back to the babbling idiots she still hung about with.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped back into the office. Draco was sat holding the photo of Albus and me, studying it with great interest.

“He looks like you,” he murmured as I placed his coffee down on the desk in front of him.

“He’s got your eyes, though.” I sat back down in my chair, cradling my coffee. “It was the first thing I noticed when Albus was born.”

“So... _Albus_...” he spoke the name slowly, as though trying it on for size. “As in-?”

“Dumbledore, yes.” I cut in sharply, experiencing a childish spark of satisfaction when I noticed him visibly flinch. “Albus Severus Potter.”

Draco’s eyes widened. ” _Snape_ ,” he shakily exhaled.

He looked up and our eyes met. A moment passed between us and I knew he was thinking the same as me. We had both been there to witness these wizard’s last moments on earth. We had held one another, and given each other comfort, whilst we watched the people we had loved and respected get horrifically killed.

Albus for me, Severus for Draco.

“Etta-”

“Don’t. _Please,_ don’t.” I could not bear to hear him call me Etta. It broke my heart all over again. Even after all this time, I still wanted him. I had never wanted anyone else.

He fell silent, glancing back down at the photo again.

“You two look so happy,” he murmured quietly, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

“We were.” And my heart gave a horrible twist when I remembered that right at that moment my son was on a train being whisked hundreds of miles away from me.

“You’re going to miss him?”

I realised Draco was looking at me intently and, as my eyes flicked upwards, I was surprised to see he held a genuine look of compassion.

“Yes, very much.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but a wobble still crept in. And judging by the flicker on Draco’s face, he noticed it too.

“I’d like to meet him one day,” he said slowly, carefully, as though testing the waters.

I let out an incredulous bark of laughter. “And tell him _what_ , exactly? Are you seriously suggesting you’d be okay for it all to come out in the open? Because if you want to meet him, Draco, then that is exactly what you will be agreeing to. I refuse to let him be your dirty little secret.”

Draco just looked at me, his mouth opening and closing mutely. Clearly, he was only just understanding the ramifications of what we had done.

“Perhaps if I introduced myself as a friend-?”

“NO!” I spat loudly, slamming my mug down on the desk as my eyes bored fiercely into his. I was not having it.

“He’s my son-”

“You already have a son. Albus is _my_ child. I’ve brought him up for the past eleven and a half years whilst you were off playing happy families of your own.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. I knew I wasn’t being fair, but my maternal instincts were kicking in and I refused to risk anything that could come between me and my child.

“I can’t just stay away, Etta.” I flinched at his use of my name again. His pained eyes looked at me imploringly. “Not now that I know.”

“You’ve managed that just fine over the past twelve years, Draco. I’m sure you can cope with another twelve or so.”

“Please, Etta-”

“Draco, if you ever loved me, if you ever cared for me as much as you say you did, then please do this one thing for me - stay away from me and _my_ son. Go back to your wife and forget about us.”

My heart was thudding but somehow, I had managed to keep my voice steady. I needed him to realise I was serious.

Draco said nothing, he just sat there looking at me sadly. There was no anger or frustration in his face, just pure sorrow.

“If that’s what you want,” he murmured quietly.

No. It was _not_ what I fucking wanted. What I wanted was to go back nineteen years and for Draco to have realised that I had in fact love him and not instead gone off and married another woman.

But, of course, I did not say any of that.

“Yes, Draco. It’s what I want.”


	7. A Potter And A Malfoy

“SIR, PLEASE! YOU HAVE NOT GOT AN APPOINTMENT!”

Carol’s shouts reverberated on the other side of my office door just before it banged open.

“Hello, Draco,” I sighed without lifting my head. I had sort of been expecting this ever since the morning owl post had arrived.

“I’m sorry, Miss Potter.” Carol gasped breathlessly, glaring indignantly at the back of Draco’s head. “He just barged right through again!”

“It’s okay, Carol, I can handle this.” I said, waving my hand dismissively at the disgruntled receptionist over Draco’s shoulder.

Huffing, she walked away. I finally, if not a little reluctantly, turned my attention to Draco. His pale pointed face was pinched in a thunderous scowl.

“Have you heard about this?” he demanded, slamming down a piece of parchment onto the desk in front of me.

I sighed heavily, refusing to look at it. “I received an owl from Minerva this morning regarding my son’s recent behaviour at Hogwarts, if that’s what you mean.”

Draco flinched. True to his word, I had not seen him since I had told him to stay away from me and Albus. Except, it seemed that there was something I had not been anticipating. Not only had Albus ended up in Slytherin, but he had befriended Scorpius; unbeknownst to him, his half-brother.

And, only that morning, I had been informed by Minerva McGonagall that Albus had received a detention, alongside Scorpius Malfoy, for skipping a whole day of lessons to go and hide out in the Forbidden Forest.

They had only been at Hogwarts for four weeks.

“This isn’t like him, this isn’t like Scorpius,” Draco angrily insisted as he repeatedly stabbed his finger into the letter.

“And just what are you implying?” I said hotly, feeling an irritation rise. “That my son is a bad influence?”

Again, Draco visibly flinched. “Scorpius is not a leader, he has always been a follower,” he said stiffly, the scowl still prominent above his eyes.

“Draco, if you’ve just come in here to accuse my son of leading your son astray, then you can just-”

" _Our_ son,” he growled, cutting me off, his grey eyes piercing into mine. “And that’s another thing,” he continued, as I shifted my gaze uncomfortably, “they have no idea that they’re brothers.”

It was my turn to flinch now. I had obviously thought about this too, but a part of me hoped that their friendship would just fizzle out to nothing. It was still early days, after all.

“Scorp likes Albus a lot,” Draco continued quietly. “He is all he talks about in his letters home.”

“Yeah, it’s the same with Albus and your-” I faltered, for some reason struggling to say the word ‘son’, “-and Scorpius. They seem inseparable.”

I looked up and our eyes met before I quickly looked away again. How the fuck had this happened? Of all the things, I had not expected Draco and I to become fellow parents discussing our children’s behaviour in impromptu meetings in my office.

“Why Hogwarts?” I found myself snapping, for some reason feeling hugely irritated at him as though all of this was his stupid fault. “I thought you hated the place. All you ever did when we were there was complain that you should have gone to fucking Durmstrang!”

For a moment he stilled. I glanced at him curiously as the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed and the tip of his tongue swept briefly and fluidly across his lip.

“Despite what you think, Potter,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, “I didn’t have all bad experiences at that school.”

Pfft, whatever. Why doesn’t he just admit he’s fucking whipped?

“Well, there’s not a lot we can do about it now,” I said stoutly, tearing my eyes away from his in the pretence of shuffling some paperwork. “I guess we just have to accept that our sons want to be friends and deal with it in a mature and adult way.”

“Who’d have ever thought it, Potter?”

I looked up, startled to see that familiar glint in his eye as a smirk twitched playfully at his lips. Despite myself, I could not help but smirk back. I knew exactly what he meant. A Potter and a Malfoy; best of friends.

Except it was a lot more complicated than that; Albus was Draco’s son too, and the smirks upon our lips quickly fell as we simultaneously remembered the mess we were in.

“Astoria’s ill,” Draco said quite suddenly, out of the blue.

“Oh.” I did not know what else to say; did not know what he wanted me to do about this piece of information he was offering me about his wife.

“I mean, she’s _really_ ill,” he coughed, not quite meeting my eye. “I’m worried what it’ll do to her if she found out about...” he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“You've already made it quite clear on how you feel about the truth of Albus's parentage getting out,” I said a little too haughtily, trying but failing to keep the hurt and bitterness out of my voice.

“I’m thinking of _Scorp,_ " he bit a little too sharply. “His mother is dying, and I don't want anything more to upset him.”

Our eyes locked and, again, I did not know what to say. I could see how upset he was for his son and I found myself feeling rather unexpectedly sorry for him.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, solemnly. “That can’t be easy.”

He seemed to regard my apology for a moment, as though weighing up if I had meant it or not. In the end he a gave me a quick, curt nod, accepting.

Not knowing what else to do, I looked back down towards the letter which Draco had dramatically paraded into the office, and sighed.

“So, what exactly do you want us to do about our wayward sons, then? Do you not trust that Minerva can handle it?”

Draco let out a loud derisive snort.

“McGonagall will just shrug it off as typical Slytherin behaviour,” he sneered, reminding me so much of twelve-year-old Draco. “She’ll probably just get them to polish all the Gryffindor trophies as punishment or something.”

“Well, at least that’ll keep them busy,” I couldn’t help but retort, my eyes glinting mischievously into his, “unlike if they’d had to polish the Slytherin ones. Or would that just be the _one_?”

“Never could help yourself, could you, Potter?” he drawled, eyes twinkling through his smirk. “Always had to get the last shot in.”

“You loved it.”

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

We fell silent, our eyes locked onto one another; old memories of school feuds stirring between us. I had the sudden urge to reach out and touch his hand. But luckily, I managed to refrain from doing so.

Instead, I shook my head, and forced myself to bring us back to the reason why we were there.

“So,” I coughed, suddenly sitting up straight to 'rifle' through some random papers in a business-like manner so as to avoid eye contact with him. “I’ll write to Albus and see if I can get to the bottom of why he did it. I suggest you do the same with Scorpius.”

“Etta-”

“I’ve a really busy morning to get through, Draco.” I interrupted abruptly, terrified of the silkiness of his voice and the softness in his expression.

But most of all, terrified of how he was making me feel.

Slowly, he stood up, sighing heavily as he did so. I dared allowed myself to glance up at him, noticing the resigned look in his eyes.

“I’ll be in touch,” he smiled sadly. I caught the faint scent of his cologne as he reached down to remove the letter from my desk. “Good luck with Albus.”

Not being able to speak for the lump forming in my throat, I nodded curtly, and was horrified to feel the sting of tears at the back of my eyes.

I waited for the door to close behind him before releasing a long, exasperated sigh.

Out of all the fucking students, why did my son have to pick a Malfoy?


	8. Back To Kings Cross

I flinched as Ron slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, creating a loud and dreadful unending beep all around us.

“For gods sake, Ron! At least warn me next time you’re going to do that!” I glared at him hotly.

“These bloody gits shouldn’t be allowed on the road!” he roared at the same time as angrily sticking his middle finger up at a passing car. “Don’t they know how to use a bloody roundabout?!”

“I can’t believe Hermione allows you to behave like this when driving,” I muttered, holding onto the passenger door for dear life as we swung hard and unexpectedly into another lane.

“She doesn’t usually let me drive, to be honest,” Ron said, blaring the horn once again for no apparent reason I could figure out.

“I can’t imagine why.”

Ron had picked me up in Arthur’s old Ford Anglia, which was - surprisingly - still going strong after he had rescued it from the Forbidden Forest. We were off to collect Rose and Albus from Kings Cross station, both of whom were returning home for the Christmas holidays.

I was anxious to see Albus again. I had not heard as much from him as I would have liked. Hermione said Rose wrote to them at least once a week whereas I could count on one hand how many letters I had received from Albus all term.

And all he had talked about was Scorpius.

Just as I had promised Draco, I had written to Albus asking him about the trouble he and Scorpius had been getting into, but the reply I received was vague and dismissive.

_You wouldn’t understand, Mum. Scorpius is the only one who gets it. He knows what it’s like to have a parent who everyone talks about._

It had hurt me. He never seemed bothered about my name or status before. In fact, he used to love hearing my hero stories about how I awesomely saved the world with a stick. It had been his favourite bedtime story.

At least... I _thought_ it had.

“It’s different when you start a new school,” Ron shrugged when I confided my concerns. “And you remember how cruel kids can be from that age. I’m sure he’ll settle in once he makes more friends.”

“It seems that he only wants to be friends with Scorpius though.” I muttered, turning to stare out of the window as I anxiously chewed my bottom lip.

“Malfoy’s son, eh?” Ron chuckled, as though this was all highly amusing to him. Except, of course, he did not know the half of it. “What is it with you Potters? You couldn’t keep away from that git when we were at Hogwarts, either.”

“RON! LOOK - THE TURNING!” I bellowed as we flew past the entrance to Kings Cross Station.

I was thrown forcibly forwards in my seat as Ron slammed hard on the brakes. Horns blared angrily around us as he immediately put the car into reverse and started backing up on the dual carriageway.

“There!” he beamed proudly at me once we had parked up haphazardly next to a bus.

“Err, I think this is a bus stop, Ron,” I said, wiping the sweat from my brow and thanking the gods that I was still alive.

Ron glanced around and shrugged. “It’ll do. Now, come on! Let’s go get those kiddos!”

*****

“Daddy!”

A grinning red-haired girl in Gryffindor robes came flying off the train, running into Ron’s outstretched arms.

“Hey, my Rosie-bear,” Ron said, his voice muffled in her hair as he squeezed her tight. "How your mum and I have missed you."

My heart melting in ball of goo, I looked up and down at the bodies spilling out of the compartment doors, eager for my own parent-child reunion, but failed to see any sight of Albus.

“Is Albus far behind you?" I asked Rose once she broke away from her father, her cheeks flushed red from the cold air.

A slight frown creased her brow as she shrugged her shoulders. “I wouldn’t know, he only ever talks to that _Scorpius,_ now.”

The bitterness in her tone shocked me; Albus and Rose had been so close before they left for Hogwarts.

“Oh... okay." I said, feeling slightly thrown as Ron and I exchanged perturbed looks. "I’ll just wander down a bit further and then see if I can find him.”

Ron touched my arm briefly, offering me a reassuring smile. “We’ll wait for you by the car,” he murmured quietly.

Walking alongside the scarlet train, my eyes swept over the faces of the many students, all looking pleased to be reunited with their families. I suddenly ached to hold my son in the same way that Ron had held his daughter.

And then I spotted two boys standing side by side dressed in Slytherin robes: one with hair resembling my own raven colour, and the other whose mane was as bright as the sun.

I picked up the pace as I started towards them, calling “ _Al_!” at the exact same time as someone shouted “ _Scorp_!“.

I glanced to my left, and there was Draco, striding across the platform towards the exact same spot as me. To our sons.

Our eyes met briefly, but we did not stop or acknowledge the other, concentrating instead on reaching our boys.

Skidding to a halt in front of him, I held my arms outstretched to Albus, keen to greet him with a hug. But he just stood, scowling at me as he refused to move from Scorpius’s side, leaving my arms open and empty.

I slowly lowered my arms, trying not to let the disappointment get to me as Draco drew up beside me, sounding slightly breathless.

“Good term, Scorp?” he asked his son who, unlike mine, greeted his father with a huge grin and a loving, albeit brief, hug.

I could not help but notice Draco’s eyes dart curiously to Albus.

“Where’s Mum?” Scorpius asked, stepping back, and glancing around as though she might suddenly appear.

“She’s at home, Scorp,” Draco replied, delicately lowering his voice, “it’s too cold for her to come out in this.”

The disappointment in Scorpius’s face made my heart twist for the poor boy, and I wondered if he knew just how ill his mother was.

“Al,” I said firmly, not wanting to intrude on Draco and Scorpius’s conversation any further, “come and say hello, please. I’ve missed you.”

Sighing heavily, as though I had just asked him to tidy his room, Albus grudgingly stepped forwards and allowed me to finally hug him. However, he remained stiff and uncooperative.

“Dad, can Albus come and stay with us during the holidays?”

Draco and I simultaneously froze at Scorpius's unexpected request.

“Oh, yes please," Albus said at once, his face lighting up as he looked up at me eagerly. "Mum, can I?”

Oh, fuck. This was so awkward. I did not know what to say, let alone think.

“Not while your mother’s poorly, Scorp,” Draco said hurriedly, shooting me a nervous glance. “Maybe another time, hey?”

Wow, Draco, what a wonderfully tactful way of saying over your wife's dead body.

“Come on, Al,” I said, sighing as I reached for his trunk, “say your goodbyes, now. Uncle Ron is waiting for us in the car.”

Albus frowned, looking momentarily confused. “Grampy’s car?”

I nodded, and his face instantly lit up again.

“Cool! Are we going to fly it back? _Hey_ \- Scorp!” he called loudly back over to his friend, “I forgot to tell you - my Grampy’s got a flying car!”

" _Albus! Shhh!”_ I gritted through clenched teeth, looking furtively around for any eavesdroppers. It really was not a good look for the Head Auror to be seen associating with law breakers.

But the only person who appeared to have shown any interest in my son's words was Draco.

“A quick word, Potter," he demanded, his eyes narrowing furiously as he brusquely beckoned his head at me.

Albus and Scorpius immediately took the chance to break free from us and put their heads together in animated discussion whilst Draco grabbed my arm and hastily pulled me to the side.

" _Uncle_ Ron? _Grampy_?” he hissed in my ear, “And _why_ , Potter, does _our_ son think he is related to the _Weasley’s_?!”

My mouth dropped open, not quite believing the audacity of this git.

“Because they _ARE_ his family,” I said with furious indignation. "The Weasley’s took me in as their own when I had no one. They are as good as my parents, and Ron is as good as my brother. Blood means _nothing_ when it comes to family.”

I glared defiantly up at him, daring him to argue as I angrily snatching my arm back which he still had a fierce hold of. 

But instead of arguing, his face appeared to fall slightly, and he swallowed, seemingly at a loss for words.

“I'm sorry," he said, his face full of regret as he tore his eyes away from mine to glance over to where our boys were locked deep in conversation. "I'm sorry for everything _._ "

"I know you are," I muttered quietly, following his gaze, "and so am I. But from now on, we've got to do what's right by them... whatever it takes."

The platform emptied around us as we stood side by side, watching as our sons said their goodbyes; neither of them aware of their special connection.

A connection that, whether I liked it or not, tied Draco and I together forever.


	9. The Malfoy Curse

I looked on morosely as the scarlet steam train trundled away, and my heart felt heavier than I ever thought it could.

It had been a shit Christmas.

Albus had barely spoken to me for the full two weeks he was home. He had changed since starting Hogwarts and I felt at loss as to why. Every single time I had tried to bring up how his lessons were or what friends he had made, he would shut me down by storming off to his bedroom.

I mourned the fun loving, sweet, friendly mummy’s boy he had once been.

“I’m sure it’s just a phase,” Hermione said, wrapping her arm around me as the Hogwarts Express disappeared from view.

“It’s alright for you,” I said, more sharply than I had intended, “at least Rose was her usual, happy self.”

“It’s Malfoy’s boy,” Ron sneered, “Albus has changed since becoming _matey_ him.”

I stiffened. “Ron, we can’t place the blame on Scorpius. Besides, you know his mother’s dying.”

“Yeah - and that’s just further proof of what I’ve been trying to tell you all these years;” Ron continued, ignoring my furious glare, “The Malfoy name has been nothing but a curse on anyone it touches. I’ve got to say, Etta, you certainly dodged a bullet there-”

“SHUT UP, RONALD!" I hollered in his face, my tether finally snapping. "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

There was a collective gasp from the other occupants on the platform and Hermione had let go of me to hurriedly place her hands over Hugo’s ears.

" _Etta_...?” Ron said, his mouth agape at my furious outburst.

“I’m just going to take Hugo to the car,” Hermione said briskly, giving Ron a pointed look as she started dragging her child a safe distance away from me.

“Etta? What’s going on with you?” Ron said, frowning in concern as he placed a pair of hands comfortingly on my shoulders.

“It’s all such a bloody mess, Ron,” I sobbed, allowing him to pull me into his embrace as I finally permitted the tears that I had held back for so many years to flow heavily and angrily against his chest.

Ron did not say anything, just held me until I was ready to stop crying.

“It’s Albus,” I eventually mumbled, wiping my tears away with my sleeves. "And... and his father."

Ron’s eyes widened. “His _father?_ "

My insistence that Albus’s conception had come from a drunken one-night stand with a man whose name I did not even know never sat right with them. But Ron and Hermione had learned to drop the subject after being shut down time and time again.

And it had been easy to deny it all those years with Draco out of the picture, having gone into seclusion after the birth of Scorpius. But since he had unceremoniously rocked back into my life, I could no longer hide the truth.

“ _Draco_ ,” I whispered, looking down - too terrified to see the disappointment in my best friend's eyes. “Draco Malfoy is Albus’s father.”

*****

“And are you sure they’re just friends?”

" _Ronald_!” Hermione hissed, smacking his arm.

“What?!” Ron implored, rubbing furiously where his wife had just hit him. “It’s a valid question! They don’t want to start getting it on only to find out that they’re brothers.”

We were back at Ron and Hermione’s, sipping tea at their kitchen table, having just updated Hermione on my Daddy Draco news.

“He’s only eleven years old, Ron!” I snapped, although I didn’t add that this thought had occurred to me too.

“And besides,” I continued, “Draco isn’t keen to let anyone find out either, at least not while Astoria is...” I trailed off guiltily.

“Oh - so you’re going to wait until the wife carks it so that Malfoy can start playing _daddy_ with a clear conscience.” Ron snapped, not bothering to hide his disgust.

“He is thinking about _Scorpius_ , Ron,” I spat hotly. _Ugh_. This is _exactly_ why I did not want to tell him.

“Well, I do agree it’s a tricky situation,” Hermione interjected, always the voice of reason.

“Well, it wouldn’t have been if Malfoy had just learned to keep it in his pants!” Ron spluttered furiously, his face going red with rage, “The git was _married_!”

I flinched, feeling hot with shame.

“Ron! This is not helping anybody,” Hermione implored. “What’s done is done and Albus is here, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. The question is, what do _you_ want to do, Etta?”

I emitted a deep sigh, looking glumly into the dregs at the bottom of my teacup, as though I could find the answer there.

“At the end of the day," I shrugged heavily. "Draco chose Astoria. And now it is his wish to keep the truth from her for Scorpius’s sake,” and even though it hurt, I added, “he’s just looking out for his family.”

I tried to ignore Ron’s scoffing and pretended I did not hear him mumble the word ' _coward_ ' under his breath.

Hermione looked at me with such doleful eyes that I had to look away; not being able to bear her pity.

“Oh, I wish you could have felt that you could’ve confided in us all those years ago, Etta,” she said sadly.

“Yeah, and I would have bloody killed him,” Ron said hotly. “fucking with my best friend like that.”

" _RONALD_!” Hermione screeched in horror.

" _What_?! It’s true!” Ron seethed, his eyes bulging furiously. His fists were clenched tightly on the table in front of him, his knuckles white. I had never seen him so angry before. “The only reason that I’m not going over there right now to tear him a new one is because he’s got a dying wife!”

“Ron, _please_!” I beseeched, wringing my hands through my hair. “This is why I never said anything - _I_ didn’t want to break up a family. Draco didn’t know I was pregnant, but he knew his wife was, and he stayed by her side because he believed it was the right thing to do. And even though it killed me, even though it broke my _fucking_ heart, I stayed away. I stayed away because I knew it would tear Draco in two if he found out.” I could not stop the quiver in my voice, and I felt the tears prickling behind my eyes when I said the next bit. “And I couldn’t do that to him because I loved him. I loved him so much that I had to let him go. _Again_.”

Tears spilled from my eyes and Hermione jumped up from the table, conjuring a box of tissues as she did so, enveloping me in a big, comforting hug.

“Oh, Etta,” she sighed as I choked great big heaving sobs into her bushy mane.

Ron stayed silent, watching me with narrowed eyes whilst I reached for the tissues and dried my tears.

“But now things are a lot more complicated,” he said steadily, his tone careful, “what with Albus and Scorpius becoming best friends. Etta, you cannot keep this from Albus anymore. He’s got a right to know that Scorpius is his brother.”

Hermione exhaled a long-drawn-out breath as I shook my head vigorously from side to side from behind a tissue. “Ronald’s right, Etta, it’s not just about protecting Draco's interests anymore; it’s about what is best for those boys.”

I knew they were right. I just did not want to face it. I did not want to drag Draco back into my life. I had spent too many years building up a wall around me, and I did not want to knock it down; I could not risk going through all that pain again. Because that was all I had ever gotten from him. Pain, betrayal, and hurt.

And I refused to let that happen again.


	10. The Rumour

“I need a favour.”

Startled, I looked up from my desk. Draco Malfoy was standing in the open doorway, a stern look upon his face.

“How did you get past Carol?” I asked, one eyebrow raised, wondering why he hadn’t arrived via the usual fanfare.

“Confundus Charm.” He shrugged as though this was no big deal. Closing the door, he crossed the room and took the chair in front of me.

“Come in. Please, do sit down.” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“There are rumours going around,” he thundered straight in, ignoring me, “about Scorpius’s parentage.”

I studied him curiously. I was not expecting this.

“What rumours? And why are you coming to _me_ about this? Unless it involves Albus, somehow?”

Draco gave a dismissive shake of his head, his white-blond hair falling messily over his eyes.

“No, but he gets teased relentlessly about it from the other students at school. He- he’s not coping.” His voice softened and there was an air of vulnerability about him that made my heart perform a slight twist.

“Draco, what rumours exactly?” I patiently asked again.

Draco exhaled a deep, shaky breath and looked down at his hands as though not being able to meet my eye. “They are saying that he’s Voldemort’s son.”

" _What_?!” I spluttered, letting out a hoot of laughter, not being able to contain my amusement. “You do know he’s dead, right? Thanks to yours truly.”

“It is _not_ funny, _Potter_ ,” he spat, his grey eyes looking fiercely into mine. “Scorpius is suffering, he needs support.”

“And what, exactly, do you want me to do about it? Come on, Draco - you only have to take one look at that kid to know that he’s your son. When I first saw him, I thought I had stepped back in time - it was like when I first met _you_.” I grinned, looking him cheekily in the eye. “I had the strangest urge to hex him.”

His eyes flashed and I saw the tiniest hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Be that as it may,” he said, his scowl quickly returning, “the rumour is that Astoria and I couldn’t have children and that my father and I were so desperate for a powerful heir, to prevent the end of the Malfoy line, that we... that we used a Time-Turner to send Astoria back.”

I couldn’t help but let out a derisive snort. “Oh _please_! Clearly there’s nothing wrong with your ability to father children.”

Draco flinched and he shot me a look. “ _You_ and _I_ know that, but the rest of the entire wizarding world seem to think that I’m capable of pimping my wife out to some crazed, noseless maniac!”

“And a dead one at that.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Draco, there are no Time-Turners left. They were all destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.”

“Exactly!” He leant forward, looking animatedly at me. “Now if you could just get the Ministry to release a statement reaffirming that-”

“Draco, this is ludicrous! Just let it blow over - they’ll soon move on. If you answer the gossip, you feed the gossip. There’ve been rumours Voldemort had a child for years; Scorpius is not the first to be accused. The Ministry, for your sake as well as ours, needs to steer well clear.”

“They’ve been writing ′S _on of Voldemort_ ′ on his things.” Draco hissed, his face twisting into a scowl. “They stare and shout. He’s not coping. Hasn’t Albus told you about any of this in his letters?”

Taken aback at the mention of our son’s name, I shook my head bewilderedly. “No, no - Albus doesn’t really write to me anymore...”

I trailed off gloomily, hurt tearing at my insides, hating to be reminded of my flailing relationship with my little boy.

Draco looked up, perturbed. “Is everything alright between you two?” His voice had softened, and I was shocked at the amount of care it contained.

“Hermione reckons it’s just a phase, but it’s been this way since Christmas,” I muttered morosely.

“Since Christmas? But that was five months ago. Has he not written at all in that time?”

“Only to tell me that he wanted to stay on at Hogwarts over the Easter holidays.” I was horrified at the wobble in my voice. I could not allow myself to get emotional in front of Draco.

“Scorp wanted to stay on too, but I had insisted he returned to see his mother.” There was a careful look about the way he glanced at me. “You know, Albus is still the only friend he talks about.”

This did not surprise me. I had heard from Ron and Hermione’s accounts of Rose’s letters home that Albus still only ever hung out with Scorpius.

“Ron and Hermione think I need to tell Albus the truth,” I whispered, not being able to look at him. “About them being brothers.”

“What?!” Draco spluttered, looking horrified. “Weasley and Granger _know_?! I thought you said you had never told anyone!”

“I hadn’t at that point! But then it turned out that our sons had bonded, and it became difficult not to get upset by the potential mess we have created. I needed to talk to _someone_.”

“You could have talked to _me_.”

“When?” I scoffed, looking him fiercely in the eye. “I don’t see you in almost half a year and then you come barging into my office without so much of a hello, demanding me of a favour!”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking shamefaced. “I should be here for you.”

“I don’t need you. I have Ron and Hermione. You have a sick wife to take care of, _remember_?”

“I care about you, Etta. I care about our son.” And then, without warning, he reached across the desk and clasped my hand in his.

Horrified, I immediately snatched it back, as though his touch had burnt me.

“ _Don’t_ , Draco.”

His eyes lingered on mine sadly. “I’ll do whatever you want, I owe you that. But I implore you, Etta - please remember that Scorpius is a young boy who is losing his mother. I can’t bear to have anything else upset him at this time.”

“I’m not going to say anything, don’t worry. Besides,” I laughed bitterly, “it’s not as though Albus and I have a great communication thing going on at the moment anyway.”

Draco cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on his chair. “And um, about that rumour-”

“Draco, please don’t let it bother you. I’m sorry your son is being taunted at school, I can only hope that Albus is being supportive and a good friend to him. The summer holidays are upon us now and maybe when they start back a new year it will all have been forgotten about.”

Draco nodded curtly, although his eyes told me he did not entirely agree with me.

“Scorp keeps asking if Albus can stay over in the holidays,” he murmured, looking suddenly uncomfortable, “but of course, given the... uh- circumstances, I’ve had to decline him. I- I’m sorry...”

He could barely look at me and I realised he must be feeling like a shit for turning away his long-lost son. Fuck, this was so messed up.

“Draco, you don’t need to explain,” I sighed, my stomach twisting uneasily caused by own feelings of guilt. "I understand."

“The thing is,” Draco said, once again clearing his throat. “Scorp has no other friends, and I’m worried about him getting lonely being stuck at the Manor all summer long. Astoria is on permanent bedrest, and with my father being in Azkaban and my mother no longer around, it really is just him and me. It would be a great weight off my mind if there was a place he could stay for a couple of days for a sort of... rest bite...” he tailed off, slowly raising his eyes to me, and my heart sank, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

“Draco, you’re not seriously suggesting that you want Scorpius to come and stay with _me_?” I asked, my mouth agape with horror.

“Only for a little while,” he said quickly, “I don’t want to put you out. I just want Scorp to be happy. And I’ll pay you of course, all the gold that you need. Just name your price.”

I looked back at him incredulously, not quite believing what I was hearing.

“I don’t want your _gold_ , Draco." I hissed, feeling as though I had just been slapped in the face. "I’m not going to be your child’s babysitter!"

"Shit, Etta," he said at once, clearly realising just how insulting he was being. "I didn't mean-"

“ _However,_ ” I said sharply, holding up my hand to cut him off, “he can stay - as Albus’s _guest_. If anything, this will perhaps put me in his good books again.”

Draco’s frown vanished as relief instantly swept over his face.

“Thank you, this means so much,” he said standing up to leave, clearly having all he came for. “I’ll be in touch to discuss the arrangements. I owe you, Etta.”

No fucking kidding. It's not as though I had been bringing his son up for the past twelve years or anything.

“Oh, and Draco,” I said, my words drawing him to a halt as he looked back down at me questioningly, “just one thing before you go.”

“Anything,” he said at once, almost _gushing_ in his eager to please.

“If you Confund my staff again, I’ll personally arrest you myself.”

There was an immediate flash in his eyes as his signature smirk played on his lips.

“Oh, don’t tempt me, Potter.”


	11. Under Your Skin

“He’s asked you _what_?!”

Ron looked at me, completely thunderstruck; his face matching the colour of his hair.

“ _Shhh_ ,” I immediately hushed him, looking around furtively at the busy platform. “I’m doing it for Scorpius - not _him_.”

We were at Kings Cross, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to return our children home after their first completed year at school. After having wimped out of it over the last month, I finally plucked up the courage to inform Ron of Draco’s request.

“Well, I don’t like it,” Ron said huffily, crossing his arms. “It's disgusting; guilting you into taking his kid off his hands for the summer. Oh sorry - his _other_ kid.”

“It’s not like that,” I hissed. “Scorpius needs a friend, and whether any of us likes it or not - that friend happens to be Albus. I’d do the same for anyone, just like your mother did for me. And besides, it’s not for the entire summer, just a couple of weeks to give him a change of scene.”

“And you’re fine with the fact that you are being dumped with yet another one of his kids whilst he goes swanning off back to his wife?”

“His _dying_ wife!" I fumed, resisting the temptation to stamp my foot like a toddler. I _knew_ he was going to be like this. "He’s hardly whisking her away on a romantic getaway, and even if he were, it wouldn’t bother me because as I said, I’m doing this for the boys.”

Ron’s eyes were narrowed as he looked at me closely. “Don’t let him get to you again, Etta,” he warned darkly. "It's only going to end in tears."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said huffily, folding my arms across my chest as I glared up the track, praying for the pissing train to arrive.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Ron bellowed, not even bothering to keep his voice down. "You're falling for him again! I can see it all over your face.”

“Nonsense.”

“Look, Etta," Ron sighed, as he finally lowered his voice. "We’ve been best friends for nearly thirty years, and I can tell just by looking at you. It’s a look you’ve reserved solely for _him,_ and now, when I think about it, how could I have not guessed all those years ago that he was Albus’s dad? Because in the months before he was conceived, you were walking around with that exact same look!”

“ _What_ look?!”

“Like you’re in _love_!”

“Well, that is a mighty reach, Ron! And since when have you been so fucking observant?"

A loud whistle blasted into the air before Ron could respond. Everyone on the platform looked out to the distance where steam was billowing on the horizon.

My stomach gave a little squeeze at the anticipation of seeing my son again. I had no idea what to expect. I had not seen Albus in six months and he had barely written in that time. For the first time ever, he felt like a stranger to me.

Students began spilling out onto the platform before the train had even come to a stop. I looked anxiously up and down the carriages, desperate to catch a glimpse of that familiar face that I had missed so much.

“Dad!”

Ron and I turned towards the voice. No longer so little, Rose came running up to us, dragging her trunk behind her; face sweaty and beaming.

“Hogwarts was _brilliant_!”

“You’ll be back before you know it,” Ron chuckled, leaning down to scoop her into his arms.

Predictably, Albus was nowhere to be seen. I was just contemplating whether to go on in search for him myself, when I felt a slight pressure on the small of my back, making me startle in surprise.

“I think I see them further up ahead, Potter.”

I twisted round in surprise and found myself looking up into a pair of hypnotic grey eyes.

The familiarity of him made my stomach somersault; his scent, his voice, his presence. I was unnerved by the reaction my body had to him and quickly stepped away, inwardly cursing myself as I felt my face grow hot.

" _Malfoy_ ,” Ron spat.

I jumped, feeling caught out as I looked guiltily at my best friend. Ron’s fingers were gripping tightly into Rose’s shoulders as he glared at Draco, his eyes bulging savagely.

“Weasley,” Draco nodded curtly, seemingly unfazed by Ron’s obvious disdain towards him. “If you don’t mind, Henrietta and I were just about to go and fetch our boys.”

And, cupping a hand under my elbow, Draco ushered me away, leaving Ron glaring furiously after us.

“What’s got Weasley’s knickers in a twist?” he drawled in my ear as he navigated our way through the busy crowds.

“You.” I replied, knowing no further explanation was needed.

A smirk twitched at his lips. “Always a good day when I manage to get under the skin of one of the golden trio.”

And then, before I could register what was happening, his arm curled around my waist and he firmly pulled me to his side, lips creeping to my ear. ” _Especially yours_.”

Shocked at his shameless act, I pushed him angrily away from me so that he staggered backwards, narrowly missing a disgruntled looking station porter.

" _Draco_! What the _hell_ do you think you’re _doing_?!” I hissed, looking around in horror, praying that nobody - especially our sons - just witnessed that.

But Draco simply chuckled, his eyes dancing in amusement. “Relax, Potter. I was just being friendly.”

Ugh. I felt as though we were in fourth year all over again.

“Well, this is not acceptable,” I said haughtily, straightening my clothes as I hurriedly strode on ahead of him; hating that he had sent my pulse rate rocketing sky high.

And then there he was, hopping off the train up ahead. My son. I found myself immediately stilling at the sight of him, watching as he chatted obliviously to Scorpius.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked softly, his voice full of concern as he drew up alongside of me, evidently confused as to why I was not making myself known to them.

“He looks- he looks so much like James,” I whispered, my voice almost a quiver.

“James?” Draco asked, frowning.

“My _father._ ” I gritted.

“Oh.” He paused, cocking his head to one side as he regarded Albus himself. “Well, rather yours than mine, I suppose.”

Raising an eyebrow, I looked up at him and had the strange desire to laugh. He grinned back down at me, his eyes flashing.

“Come on, Potter.” He chuckled, draping an arm over my shoulders. “Let’s go say hello to our sons.”

This time, when I held out my arms to him, Albus did not decline my hug. My heart soared as his once soft body collided with mine and I could not get over how much he had grown - he was almost as tall as me.

“Is it true, Mum?” he asked, hurriedly pulling out of my embrace to look up at me with an eager expression. “Is Scorp really coming to stay?”

I smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Yes, Al. Scorpius’s father will be dropping him over mid summer to stay with us for a couple of weeks. I hope that’s alright with you?”

“Brilliant!” Albus yelled, delightedly pumping his fist into the air. “Summer’s gonna be awesome! You’re the best, Mum!”

I glanced up to see Draco observing our mother son reunion over the top of Scorpius’s head, his expression soft. A smile twitched at his lips as our eyes met, and the fluttering in my heart was so intense that I had to look away before it could show on my face.

Damn it, I fucking hated it when Ronald Weasley was right.


	12. A Spot Of Brunch

“Mum, what’s that smell? And why are you covered in that white powdery stuff?”

I was frantically bouncing around the kitchen trying desperately to clean up all the flour that had managed to settle on every fucking surface.

“Pancakes, Al! I thought we could have brunch!” I said brightly, glancing up at the clock and wondering desperately if I had time to run upstairs and get changed.

“What’s brunch?”

“It’s what well to do people do.”

“Are we well to do people?

“We do alright.”

Actually, we really did. My position as Head of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry paid very well indeed. It meant that I could sell up my cramped little city flat and relocate to a modest sized house in the country. It wasn't so huge that Albus and I are were rattling around, but it was large enough for us to be comfortable and able to accommodate guests.

Plus, it had a fucking massive garden.

The doorbell went, making me startle.

Damn it. They were early.

“Stall them,” I ordered Albus, throwing off my apron. “I just need to put something fresh on.”

And without waiting for a response, I ran upstairs, diving into my bedroom as I frantically stripped off, silently scolding myself for getting so worked up about this.

The sounds of male voices drifted up from down in the hallway as I emerged two minutes later in non-floury clothes. My heart thudded in my chest as I began to descend the stairs.

“Nice place, Potter,”

There he was. Suited up in his usual black attire, white-blond hair falling lazily over his pale pointed face and silver-grey eyes twinkling up at me in amusement.

Fuck, why did he have to be so bloody gorgeous?

“Draco, Scorpius, it’s good to see you both,” I said, smiling down at them as I reached the bottom of the stairs.

As usual, Scorpius looked every inch his father. I swore Draco must have styled his son’s hair because it was exactly like his own.

“Hello, Mrs Potter, it’s very kind of you to invite me to stay.” Scorpius said politely, offering his hand out to me.

Personality wise, however, they could not have been more different.

Shaking Scorpius’s hand, I flashed an appreciative smile at Draco, letting him know I was impressed with his son’s manners.

“Er, Scorp, it’s _Miss_ Potter, actually,” Draco drawled, a little _too_ condescendingly.

“Yes, thank you, _Draco_.” I said, throwing him a filthy glare before turning to Scorpius. “But please, enough with the formalities. I want you to feel at home whilst you are staying here. Call me Etta.”

“Mum, what’s that burning smell?” Albus piped up from behind them, sniffing the air.

“ _Shit_ \- the pancakes!”

I ran into the kitchen and tossed the burning frying pan into the sink where it hissed angrily in the cold water.

“Mum’s making brunch,” I heard Albus explaining as they sauntered in behind me. “Apparently it’s what _well to do_ people do.”

Thank you very fucking much, son of mine.

Draco chuckled softly, looking thoroughly entertained as I scraped the blackened pancakes into the bin. “Never change, Potter."

“Well, there’s still coffee.” I shrugged, resisting the urge to stick my fingers up in his infuriating face. “You’ll stay for one, won’t you?” I added lightly.

“Sure, as long as it’s drinkable. I don’t suppose you can ruin coffee, can you?” he smirked, helping himself to a seat at the kitchen table.

“Boys?” I asked, who were stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Anything?”

“I’m going to show Scorp my room,” Albus said, already pulling at his friend’s arm. “We’ll have something later; you know like at _lunch_ time.”

And they disappeared, leaving Draco and I alone. I suddenly felt very self conscious as I moved around the kitchen making the coffees, sensing his eyes on me the whole time.

“How did you travel?” I asked, finally breaking the silence as I placed a steaming mug down in front of him and joined him at the table.

“My driver’s outside,” Draco said cockily as he beckoned towards the window. Sure enough, I glanced out to see a large black limousine parked across my drive, a figure seated in the driver’s side, obscured behind a newspaper.

“Oh. Should we invite him in for a coffee?”

Draco's eyes widened in horror, giving me a contemptuous shake of his head. “For a _well to do_ woman, Potter, you really are clueless. You don’t _mingle_ with the servants.”

“I may not have staff serving me round the clock, Draco," I tutted, rolling my eyes at his complete snobbish attitude, "but at least I know how to treat people with respect.”

“So,” Draco said, apparently choosing to ignore my last comment. “Do I get a tour of Potter Palace?”

With a slow sip of my coffee, I looked up at him over my cup, suddenly being reminded of how he used to infuriate me so. And it occurred to me just then why I had been so anxious about him turning up at my home; it was because I had wanted him to see with his own eyes that I had done well without him. I had not needed him, and I never would.

“Well, this is the kitchen.”

“I guessed that.”

“Through there’s the hallway.” I pointed at the door we had just come through.

“I noticed.”

“And above us is upstairs.” I pointed to the ceiling.

“I assumed there was a reason you had a staircase. Do I get to see it?"

“No. Tour over.”

“You can do better than that, Potter.” Draco’s eyes flashed wickedly. "I’ve driven a long way to get here.”

“You mean your _driver_ drove a long way.”

“Don’t I have a right to inspect the premises where I’ll be leaving my son for the next two weeks?”

And who the fuck did he think Albus was? A pet?

“Oh, come on then,” I sighed heavily, noisily scraping my chair back.

He stood up just as I went to walk past him, blocking my path. I was hit quite suddenly with the scent of cologne and, caught off guard, the breath hitched in my throat and I shivered. I quickly looked away to hide the flush I could feel rising to my cheeks.

“You know you have flour in your hair, Potter?” he murmured softly. And then, he lifted a hand, running his fingers down strand of my hair.

Our eyes met and I froze.

“Don't." I said abruptly, my heart racing noisily in my chest as I glared at him fiercely.

A look of disappointment flitted over his face as he dropped his hand.

"You wanted a tour, remember?" I said pointedly, nodding to the door behind him.

“Sure,” he muttered, finally stepping aside. "Lead the way."

I led him to the large and airy sitting room where huge French doors looked out over our vast back garden. Matching the colour of the bookshelf lined walls, it homed two large plump maroon sofas and a modest sized television.

“Very Gryffindor, Potter.” Draco drawled, raising his eyebrows as he picked up a scarlet cushion decorated with little gold lions.

"What did you expect?" I sniped irritably, snatching the cushion out of his hand, and carefully placed it back on the sofa. " _Snakes_?"

Chuckling in amusement, his eyes wandered back round the room, and I noticed how he froze briefly as they landed upon the mantlepiece above the fireplace. Photos of Albus.

“He looks happy,” he murmured quietly as he went over and inspected each one with great interest, his expression wistful.

“He was happy. He _is_ happy.” I corrected myself as I stepped up beside him, trying to ignore that familiar feeling of mourning I got every time I looked at old photos of my rapidly growing son.

Dragging his eyes away from a photo of me holding a one-day old Albus, he turned his head to look at me.

“Are _you_ happy?”

I chewed my lip, pondering this question. No one had ever asked me that before and, up until that moment, I had never thought about it.

“It gets a bit lonely at times with Albus being at Hogwarts,” I answered truthfully, shrugging my shoulders, “he's been the best thing that has ever happened to me. _He's_ made me happy.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled softly at me, and then he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against mine. I closed my eyes and released a soft, blissful sigh at his touch. My heart was pounding in my chest and my stomach knotted in a sudden, urgent longing.

" _Etta,”_ he breathed in my ear as his fingers continued caressing my hand. I could feel every hair on my body stand up, every part of me wanting him.

And then I remembered his wife.

My eyes flew open. “No, Draco. _No.”_ I hissed, snatching my hand back. “I will _not_ be your other woman again.”

Shock immediately flashed in Draco’s eyes, his face falling.

“Etta, you have always been so much more to me than that, you must know,” he implored, reaching again for my hand which I angrily pulled out of his grip.

“Stop it, your son is upstairs... _sons_ ; and you have a dying wife waiting for you back home. Go back to her, Draco. Go back to the woman you chose to be with.”

“Etta, please-”

“You shouldn’t have come; Scorpius could have arrived on his own - you have a driver. Why are you even here?”

“I wanted to see you, Etta."

Wrong fucking answer. If he had said Albus, that he wanted to see the son he had known about for an entire year, yet had still barely said a single word to, then I may have been more understanding.

“I can’t have you in my life anymore, Draco - don’t you _understand_?! Do you know how much pain I’ve been through because of you? How much _hurt_? I used to think the Cruciatus Curse was the worst pain anyone could suffer but it was nothing compared to the way I’ve been hurt by you. _Nothing_.”

He flinched as though I had just slapped him.

Sounds of movement from upstairs caused both Draco and I to glance up at the ceiling.

“Go and say goodbye, Draco. _Please_.” I begged as he looked back down at me, his grey eyes swimming sadly. He swallowed.

“I’ll be back to pick him up in two weeks.”

“No, just send your driver. Don't turn up here again unless you want to see your _other_ son. _Please_.”

" _I’ll_ be _back_ , Etta,” he said hotly, eyes boring into mine.

The door flew open, making me jump, but Draco did not even flinch, his gaze remaining fixedly upon me.

“Will you be alright?” he added quietly as the boys thundered into the room, barely even acknowledging us.

“I’ve got this really cool new game for my X-Box,” Albus was saying animatedly as he started switching it on by the television.

“What’s an X-Box?” Scorpius asked, bewildered.

Draco continued to look at me, clearly refusing to go anywhere until I reassured him of my answer.

“I’ll be fine,” I gritted, wishing he would just leave.

His features visibly relaxed, lips parting as a sigh passed between them. Offering me a brief nod, he turned to Scorpius.

“I’m off now, Scorp. Be good for Etta. Your mother and I will owl you later in the week.”

“Yeah, bye Dad,” Scorpius said, not even bothering to look up from the television where Albus was showing him his latest game.

Draco was about to turn to leave, then hesitated. He looked over to Albus as though he wanted to say something but seemed to struggle to do so. In the end he made do with a quiet, "Uh- goodbye, Albus."

 _Too_ quiet - Albus was busily engrossed in his X-Box to have heard.

“Albus,” I said sharply, not being able to help but experience a small wave of pity at Draco's feeble attempts at 'bonding', “say goodbye, please.”

“Oh - see ya, Mr Malfoy.” Albus grunted without turning his head.

A faint smile tugged at Draco's lips and my heart filled with an unexpected warmth as our eyes met.

“I’ll see myself out,” he murmured, turning towards the door, “goodbye, Potter. I’ll be seeing you.”

The meaning of this last part was clear; he was coming back.

“Goodbye, Draco.” I sighed, realising that arguing was pointless. It usually always was when it came to Draco Malfoy.

There was only one thing for it - I needed a plan and I needed one fast.


	13. Astoria

Shifting the tray to one hand, Draco tentatively pushed open the door where, on the other side, his wife lay dying.

“Did Scorp settle in okay?” Astoria rasped weakly as he set the tray down on the little table over her lap.

He nodded a dismissal to the nurse, an elderly witch who had been hired as Astoria’s full-time carer, waiting until she vacated the room before he answered his wife’s question.

“He certainly seemed happy to be with his friend,” he said, repositioning the pillows behind her back as he helped her to sit up. “The break should do him good.”

He pushed the vegetable smoothie he had made for her across the tray and positioned the straw so that she could tilt her head forward and catch it in her mouth. After taking a long sip, she let her head fall back against the pillows, exhausted. Draco looked away, finding it too painful to see her this way, the guilt eating him up.

“Tell me about her,” Astoria said breathlessly when she regained some strength back. “Was she friendly towards you? Does she have a nice home?”

“Uh-” Draco felt the stirrings of panic, he had not expected this. Astoria had seemed happy enough for Scorpius to stay there simply on the basis that all he ever did was rave about Albus and she would never deny him a single thing. “It’s a modest house in a modest part of the country.”

He was playing it down. What he had actually thought when he had arrived at Etta’s abode was how _perfect_ it all was. It was warm and homely, full of love and life, reflecting Etta’s personality down to a tee. It made him dread returning to the cold and draughty Manor where memories of death, fear and torture were waiting for him around every corner.

“Was it awkward for you? I know you two had your differences during Hogwarts. It must be strange for you both to have your sons so friendly.”

“It was a long time ago,” he shrugged, hoping he was coming across as casual, “we were just kids back then, both with egos too big to be able to stand in the same room.”

“Did you stay long?”

“Just for a quick coffee. Albus was showing Scorp his Muggle games when I left.”

“That must have been painful for you.” A weak smile tugged at her lips, briefly lighting up her face. “I can imagine Henrietta Potter is a good mother; it mustn’t be easy for her bringing up a child on her own.”

A silence fell and Draco glanced down at his hands, absentmindedly twirling his wedding ring round and round his finger.

“She’s a strong woman,” he said quietly, his heart giving a painful squeeze. “She always has been. It’s what gave her the strength to walk to her death.”

He was so consumed in his own feelings of guilt and remorse that he did not notice Astoria frowning at him.

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

Draco blinked, trying to make sense of her unexpected question.

“The woman who has your heart." Astoria pressed, her voice steady. "The woman who has _always_ had your heart.”

The atmosphere seemed to shift, and Draco was left momentarily winded as the breath all but left his body.

“I don’t- I have no idea-” Draco started spluttering, completely thrown by what his wife was saying. She no longer looked weak and frail, but somehow fierce and defiant as she looked up at him, daring him to argue.

“Stop it, Draco. I know you’ve never loved me. From the very beginning it was clear that you were pining after someone else. I used to kid myself that time was all you needed, that maybe one day you would wake up and love me like you love this other woman. But you never did. Every day I would see the sadness in your eyes and the pain etched on your face. I used to resent you for it at first, used to feel so _angry_. But then you gave me Scorp and suddenly I was okay about not being your world because I was _his_ and he was mine.”

" _Astoria_ ,” Draco’s voice was barely a whisper as he shakily sat down in the chair next to her bed, scarcely believing what he was hearing; scarcely believing that all this time she had _known_ and yet she had never said a single thing, never gave the slightest indication.

“The thing is,” she spoke gently, surprising him by reaching out to take his hand in hers, “I actually find myself feeling sorry for you.”

Draco’s eyes lifted in surprise, wondering why she wasn’t shouting at him or at least throwing her smoothie across the room with the little strength she had left. Instead, _she_ was pitying _him_.

“Why?” he asked, his voice strangled. “Why are you being so... nice?”

She gave a small laugh, shaking her head. “Believe me, there was a time when I hated you for it. Even when we used to make love you looked as though you would rather be somewhere else, _with_ someone else.” Draco flinched, feeling utterly ashamed. “But I’m dying, Draco. And I need to let go of my anger... for Scorp’s sake as well as my own. I want him to have a happy father. And if I’m the only reason stopping you from being that then I don’t want to be anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“Go and do what makes you happy. I’m giving you my permission. Just promise me one thing. Promise me that you will tread carefully with Scorp. I want you to be happy, but not at his expense.”

“I’m not going to just abandon you, Astoria. Not like this.”

“I’m not going to be around much longer,” she whispered, her face crumpling as tears began to swim in her eyes, threatening to spill over, “and the thought that you are simply waiting for me to die so that you can go to her is more than I can bear. I’m not asking you to divorce me, I’m asking you not to wish me dead.”

Draco’s heart thudded noisily against his ribs as he squeezed her hand in his, desperate to try and find the right words to console her, to try and make this whole train wreck he’d created somehow right again.

“Astoria, I could never-”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Draco,” she spoke sharply, slipping her hand out of his. “I’m dying, not stupid. You have loved her since school, haven’t you? You’ve never stopped.”

Slowly, because Draco now knew he owed her the truth, he nodded.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as what she already knew was confirmed. But Draco could not give her the whole truth, could not admit that he had betrayed her more than she realised. Not when it risked upsetting Scorpius.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing that, after all this time, his apology meant so little. She had not deserved any of this and he had treated her appallingly.

And, because he knew it was the very least he could do, he dismissed the nurse altogether and spent the next two weeks caring for his wife.


	14. Scorpius

“I need you to set me up on a date.”

Hermione, who was prepping carrots, almost chopped her finger off in the complete shock of my ‘out of the ordinary’ request.

" _What_? Oh, Etta - _finally!”_ Hermione’s face beamed, “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever felt so excited!”

Poor Ron.

“I don’t care with whom,” I said, peeling the potatoes next to her. “I just need a male, same-ish age, not a complete idiot, and most importantly - _not married.”_

 _"_ Not being funny, Etta,” Ron muttered, tossing his empty mug carelessly into the sink, causing me to wince. “But there’s not many of them left at our age.”

“Well, there must be _one_ unmarried, non-idiot out there, surely?”

Shit. I knew it. I had left it too long. I was going to die all alone and surrounded by cats.

And I fucking hated cats.

It was Sunday, and Ron and Hermione were helping me to prepare lunch in my kitchen. Albus, along with Scorpius, Rose, and Hugo, were all outside in the garden, making the most of the fine, sunny weather.

“Well...” Hermione said pensively, “there _may_ be someone I know from the Ministry who’d be willing to date you. He’s single, _slightly_ older, and seems rather eligible.”

“And just who is this eligible bachelor that you’ve obviously taken notice of, _Hermione_?” Ron retorted furiously, slamming the fridge door behind him as he helped himself to a beer.

Hermione rolled her eyes, sighing heavily as she threw the chopped carrots into the saucepan.

“For _Etta_ , Ronald. And it’s about time she stopped moping over You-Know-Who.”

" _Voldemort?!”_ Ron spluttered.

“No - the _other_ Dark Lord.”

“Oh, _him,”_ Ron nodded darkly. “Well. It’s about bloody time. The ferret never was good enough for her.”

“You know, I’m right _here._ ” I muttered, scraping the potatoes into a pan full of spitting fat.

“Speaking of which,” Ron said, dropping his voice as he looked over his shoulder, “how is it having his other mini-me under your roof?”

It had only been a couple of days since Draco had dropped Scorpius off, and already I had grown to love him. He was good for Albus, he made him happy. Scorpius was sensitive, funny, and kind. He lacked that mean streak that his father always had. I could only guess that he took after his mother. _Astoria_.

“Scorp is actually a lovely, polite, friendly house guest,” I answered truthfully, “and it’s a pleasure to have him here.”

“Blimey, are you sure he’s Malfoy’s?”

“You could probably say the same about Albus,” I muttered under my breath.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, involving highly raised eyebrows, which did not go unnoticed by me.

" _What_? What was that look for?” I asked indignantly.

“It’s just that- well... Albus _does_ have a tendency to- to... you know...” Hermione tailed off, going beetroot red under my furious glare.

“What Hermione is trying to say, Etta,” Ron spoke loudly, “is that Albus can be a bit grumpy, stubborn, surly and stuck up. In other words, he’s a startling accurate combination of you and Malfoy.”

" _Ron!_ " Hermione gasped.

“What?” Ron shrugged, belching on his beer. “I’m just stating facts.”

“It's not his fault!” I said defensively, throwing knives and forks noisily down on the table. “He’s just struggling to find his place at Hogwarts at the moment. He’ll be fine once he makes more friends.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged another look which I made a point of ignoring. I did not need reminding that I was failing miserably as a parent.

“Anyway,” I continued, keen to change the subject, “tell me more about this eligible bachelor, Hermione.”

“Oh, yes!" Hermione trilled, her face lighting up at once. "His name is Tony Tripp, and he works in the Department of Magical Transportation.”

“Oh, I know Tripp,” Ron scoffed, “He was in Perce’s year at Hogwarts. Hufflepuff. Bit of a prat if I’m to be honest, Etta.”

“But is he good looking?” I asked, needing to get my priorities in order.

Hermione’s blush told me everything I needed to know.

“Set me up with him then. As soon as possible.”

*****

A short while later, we were all sat round my kitchen table, tucking into a hearty roast dinner.

“Wow, this food is even better than what they serve up at Hogwarts!” Scorpius gushed, sawing enthusiastically into a burnt Yorkshire pudding.

Hermione and I both beamed across the table at him, whilst Ron just sat there, eyeing him suspiciously as he stuffed a Brussel sprout in his mouth.

“Why, thank you Scorp, I’m glad you are enjoying it,” I said proudly. I could not help but notice Albus’s sulky expression next to him.

“Do you eat roast dinners at home at all, Scorpius?” Hermione enquired, regarding him with great interest.

Scorpius shrugged. “We don’t really have family dinners. Mum’s usually too tired to come downstairs and then it’s just Dad and me, so we usually order a pizza or something and eat it wherever.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Hermione said, her jaw dropping open in horror before quickly composing herself. “Well, that’s nice too... I suppose,”

Poor Scorpius. I could only imagine that Draco was not really one for small talk with his son at the dinner table. No wonder he wanted him to come and stay here for a break.

“I’m going to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!” Rose announced suddenly at the far end of the table as Hugo, through a mouthful of food, roared “Go Gryffindor!” spraying potato everywhere.

“That’s my girl,” Ron cheered, pumping his fork into the air. “Both me and your Aunt Etta were the team’s hot shots back in the day.”

“You mean _I_ was,” I corrected, smirking smugly at Ron. “ _I_ was the youngest player to get on the team ever. _And_ I caught the Snitch in my mouth. Seekers don’t come much better than that.”

“Wow!” Scorpius exclaimed impressively before turning to my son. “Albus, your mum is so cool! I can’t believe she caught the Snitch in her mouth!”

Albus said nothing and just scowled.

“Yeah, your dad wasn’t too pleased about that,” I smirked again as Scorpius looked on at me in complete awe. “In fact, he and I were huge rivals on the pitch; both playing Seeker for our teams. You should have seen the dirty tricks he used to play just so that he wouldn’t lose to a girl.”

I chuckled, remembering how furious Draco would get to the point of tears. I briefly wondered what he was doing right at that moment whilst I sat having lunch with his sons, and I was hit by a sudden wave of guilt and sadness at the thought of him nursing his dying wife.

I grabbed my wine, knocking it back in my attempt to disguise my sudden attack of despondency.

“You should go to try-outs, Scorpius,” Hermione suggested. “I’m sure your parents would be proud to have their son playing for Slytherin.”

With a look of wonderment in his eyes, Scorpius opened his mouth as though about to say something - but was interrupted by my extremely surly son.

“We hate Quidditch.”

The light in Scorpius’s eyes flickered and died, and he closed his mouth, slumping back in his chair resignedly. “Yeah... that.”

I shot Albus a scornful look before turning back to Scorpius. “Scorp, if you want to tryout then you should go for it. Perhaps you can too, Al?” I suggested lightly, glancing warily at him. “You might even find that you enjoy it.”

“I’d just be crap at it like I am at everything else.” Albus sighed gloomily, pushing a potato across his plate with his fork. My heart gave a little twist at how forlorn he looked. It was as though he had given up on everything.

“Al-”

“And don’t call me Al! It’s _Albus_!”

Everyone round the table froze. Shocked, I looked up at my son who had jumped angrily to his feet; eyes bulging and nostrils flaring as he glared down at me. I could not understand where all this animosity had come from.

“Look, mate, why don’t you sit back down?” Ron calmly suggested.

“Not if I have to keep hearing stories about the Great Henrietta Potter.” Albus spat, glaring down at me. “I get enough of this bullshit at school.”

“Please don’t be like this, Al- Al _bus,”_ I said, desperately trying to appease him. “I was just telling Scorp-”

“That you’re great at everything. Yeah, I heard. No need to keep ramming it down our throats, _Mother.”_

There was a collective gasp as the table’s occupants all held their breath, eyes immediately swivelling towards me, waiting for my response.

I did not disappoint.

_“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT, ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER! YOU GO TO YOUR ROOM RIGHT NOW AND DON’T COME OUT UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO APOLOGISE!”_

I was shaking with fury, red lights flashing before my eyes.

“Gladly,” Albus spat. “See you again... _never_!”

And then off he stormed, leaving a ringing silence behind him as he slammed the door hard.

“Well,” Ron said wiping his mouth with a napkin, “any dessert going?”


End file.
